My third story also focused on social media. The price was right for our shop; to report it all I had to do was open my phone and laptop. It was a roundup of the rumors, gossip, theories and speculation being spread on social media. The wild days of the internet when anyone could post anything had ended three years ago with the Supreme Court decision in Trump v. Facebook et al. Citing special prosecutor Robert Mueller’s attempt to prove Russian elements had used social media to illegally influence the 2016 presidential election, the Court had ruled finally that the government did have a compelling constitutional right to determine the source of potentially seditious comments on the public media. Several people had been indicted, and while no one had been convicted, the chilling effect on free speech was obvious. With the protection of anonymity gone, people tended to be a bit more cautious with their comments. It also put additional pressure on the media; our lawyer had cautioned us about repeating unfounded allegations.

The reaction made a great story. The legendary comedian Jimmy Durante had a popular catchphrase, “Everybody wants ta get inta da act!” Social media provided that platform. A large number of people offered their prayers, others announced Kickstarter campaigns to provide assistance to affected families, and a sizable number advocated using nuclear weapons to destroy any country that had assisted the perpetrators. Some posters blamed the Wrightman administration for failing to protect the homeland; others suggested the Wrightman administration actually might be behind the attacks as an excuse to further erode constitutional rights. A surprising number of people blamed the Kardashian family for creating the culture that made these attacks possible. And, of course, several posters boasted about how much money they were making working at home.

I was finishing my story on social media reaction when Howie plopped himself down in my dining room chair. “We havin’ fun yet?”

“Life’s just a bowl of cherries.”

“They just announced a press gathering at the White Castle,” he said. He had begun referring to the White House as the White Castle several years earlier, after Trump had served cold hamburgers to the visiting national college football champions from Clemson, and it still delighted him. “Why don’t you just roll on over there and see whose life you can make miserable.” He Groucho-ed his eyebrows and stuck his imaginary cigar in his mouth. “Toodle-oo,” he said, pushing himself out of the chair.

“Cher,” I commanded out loud, “play Victory at Sea.” And as I set out in pursuit of the truth, with maybe a quick stop to grab something to eat, that soaring score came through the seat-speakers Y had installed.

Maybe five thousand years ago I would have been carving my story, this story, into a stone. I would have depicted myself as a stick figure in a seated position on wheels; I’ll bet that would have confused the archaeologists. Somehow, though, I would have gotten it down on rock or paper or now in cyberspace. I’m certain of that. It’s all up there, taking up too many bytes of my memory.